J. Cole, D’Angelo, and The Return of Unabashedly Black Music
Music sales are at an all time low. The US music industry sold half as many units in 2014 as it did in the year prior. It took until October for the country to see its first platinum album release of 2014. And although streaming music revenues are rising, disputes over payouts to artists put the medium on shaky ground.
Faced with declining sales and decreasing profits, the music industry, just like film and Television, is relying heavily on “tentpole releases,” heavily marketing sounds that data has confirmed are surefire hits. It begins by flooding the marketplace with more music by a smaller subset of artists — according to The Atlantic, Robin Thicke’s 2013 hit “Blurred Lines” was played on the radio 70 percent more than any pop song ten years prior—and continues by ensuring that popular music fits an accessible mold.
There is no greater victim of this phenomenon than Black music. Once the backbone of the American aural landscape (if you disagree with this, please watch Dave Ghrol’s Sonic Highways, which effortlessly makes this connection), black music has taken a backseat (pun intended) as major music conglomerates chase declining revenue streams.
2013 marked the first time that a black artist had not topped the Billboard 100 chart, and the Grammys snub of Kanye, Pharrell, and John Legend in 2014 shows that major labels have no interest in promoting black music generally.
I type all of this to say that it’s been refreshing to hear both J. Cole and D’Angelo’s albums this week. Neither albums are likely to get played on mainstream radio, but they do something much more important: they tap into the sentiments of Black America, still reeling from racial and economic injustice.
Cole’s ditched his pretty-boy looks for a shaggy beard and longer hair. The ex-music industry cynic in me says this is a relatability ploy, but his look also says emergence after years of deep thought. Cole channels that vibe into the album as well. 2014 Forest Hills Drive comes off as his angriest project to date; Cole spits with an acidic ferocity that was lacking in his last two career efforts.
Freedom is something that Cole touches on a few times in this album. Bouyed by “Be Free,” released on Soundcloud this past summers after Ferguson happened (unfortunately it was left off of the album), Cole begins the album singing:
“Do you wanna be happy? Do you wanna be free?”
A white friend I spoke with back in August didn’t understand Cole’s allusions to freedom, or chains, or happiness for that matter.
“We’re not slaves anymore,” my clueless friend asserted.
In between more autobiographical songs like “Wet Dreamz” and “On a Tale of 2 Citiez” is the making of a revolutionary rapper. Cole isn’t my favorite MC, nor will he ever be considered one of the greats, but hip-hop needed this introspective album. Most rappers have tepidly added their voice to the protest; Cole is putting his career and reputation on the line, and the result is genius.
On the flip side, D’Angelo has come out of nowhere to singlehandedly resurrect R&B with his surprise album, Black Messiah.
Just as the fallout from the tumultuous 60s birthed Marvin Gaye’s 1971 concept album What’s Going On, Black Messiah seems directly connected to this year’s racially charged events. D’Angelo alludes to this very fact in his manifesto for the album — “we should all aspire to be a Black Messiah” — a positive inspiration for society as a whole, not a reference to his second coming.
If J. Cole taps into the anger of the social media generation, D’Angelo sounds calmer and phlegmatic yet still confrontational. On his politically inspired songs such as “Charade” (with lyrics like “All we wanted was a chance to talk, ‘stead we only got outlined in chalk/Feet have bled a million miles we’ve walked, revealing at the end of the day, the charade”), the singer sets a soulful tone while remaining passionate and emotional. From soulful ballads such as “Another Life” to his country skewing “The Door,” the album defies what charts, label heads, and data scientists say music is supposed to sound like. It’s a sound dripping in struggle, and — God Bless him — something that Sam Smith couldn’t recreate in the studio if he tried.
As a music fan, I’m more than happy to see these two albums emerge back-to-back on the charts. In an era in which artists are more interested in protecting their bank accounts, J. Cole and D’Angelo show us that music can still be passionate, edgy, and popular.
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